Two Minutes of Terror
By
Justin Thomas
An adaptation
on the Animation work done by Jonathon Wrathbrone
Chapter
One
“Death doesn't
bargain.”
AUGUST
STRINDBERG, The Dance of Death
“Oh God!” The lifeguard shrieked, she had been stuck inside the basement of an abandoned house. It had been there for as long as anyone could remember. Rubble throughout the years from the decay was on the dirt floor. The concrete walls were covered in grime, dirt, and brown splotches that might have been bloodstains at one point in time. The afternoon sunlight that was filtering through was more than enough to see that her adversaries. Which were more than your regular plants; these were acting as if they were alive. They had circled her, trapped her, and preventing any escape.
The white flowers on top of their vine structures were snapping at her, keeping her from escaping, she could see the circular teeth inside of their salivating mouths. She was safe as long as she did not move, if she did not move, she would be safe, that was before her brief life ended. The snapping flowers were only a distraction; she never saw the much bigger flower descend upon her, as fast as a snake that was attacking its prey. Its mouth opened and disabled her from movement as only her small screams inside her throat was the last she was able to do as she was sucked inside and digested slowly.
Her body was never found, the police that searched the abandoned house found a broken cell phone, a purse, and a half-digested red pair of sweat pants and sweater. After that, I guess the police just gave up; her family was in distress, but like all things, that faded in the back of the mind. Like a bad dream that if you didn't think about it, it would all magically go away.
No one ever knew what happened to the other three, two murders and another disappearance, witnesses said that she went into the women’s restroom, and never came back out. One was stabbed to death, it looked like whatever killed him, was bent on revenge of some sort. His body was found right next to his car, which also had similar stab marks, which were found on both the top of the car and on the hood. A friend I know told me that whoever did that, also killed his engine, now I’m not much of an mechanic, but I do know that it would have taken a lot of strength to puncture that kind of metal.
Moreover, the paper said that the first murder, a woman, her head had exploded, like a ripe watermelon versus a sledgehammer. However, these were just stories; rumors had floated around this sleepy little town for years, not that anyone really believed them, well, except for me.
It had been several years after unusual events had plagued our town, some said that it was haunted; others dismissed the gruesome deaths as folk tales. All I know was that I was intrigued, not even that I was fascinated by the rumors and what the paper told us. I guess I need to introduce myself; my name is Jason Mcreedy, I work at the gas station during the day, and look into my town’s history at night. So somewhat of a local historian, and if you are guessing by my last name that I am Scottish, you’re wrong I’m Irish. I stand around five foot eight, weigh about a hundred and fifty pounds, skinny as a rail, with a dark red goatee, bright green eyes, and all of this at the wonderful age of twenty-two.
Not that I ever cared about my height or appearance, usually wore an eight piece hat, black clothing, and an over shirt that was usually a bright plaid color, something to bring out the red I guess. The locals all knew me, as they should, I grew up here, went to school, and I plan to not go anywhere, if I can help it. I looked out the window from the mystery novel I was reading, the leaves on the trees were all a gorgeous colors, reds, oranges, yellows, all was pointing toward fall, and Halloween. A fun fact I learned from growing up in a Catholic home was that All Hallows Eve was when the supposed line between the psychical and spiritual realm was the weakest, causing all sorts of weird things to happen. I smiled; nothing was more intriguing then thinking of the missing and dead around this time of year.
An elderly woman walked up to the counter, causing me to focus on the kitty litter, milk, and old lady smell. I smiled politely and offered my assistance to her vehicle, which was nothing more than an 1978 Ford truck, you know the ones that have actual metal instead of the new ones that the manufacturing have out nowadays? I loaded up her passenger side with the items and waved goodbye as she nimbly hopped up and drove off. I coughed a little as the truck burped some carbon monoxide my way and I went inside to resume my duties. So my life isn't very exciting, but that was all about to change, but I didn't quite know that as of yet.
My shift ended at around ten and my replacement was late, more than half an hour late when I looked at the clock. I made sure everything was stocked and was more than ready to go home, eat dinner and hit the hay, but one problem remained, I couldn't leave without anyone watching the place. Sure crime rates were low in this town, but I wasn't going to take a chance, so I waited, and waited, and waited some more. Finally I was fed up and was about to call my boss when I heard a loud noise outside, like a bottle breaking. I grabbed the flashlight and went outside.
Now it was a full moon out, so I didn't even need the extra lighting, but everything was quiet, not even the regular sounds of vehicle’s passing were audible. Maybe it was just me, but I started feeling dread creep up my spine. You know what that’s like I’m sure, that cold chill of the unknown whenever you’re alone in your house with the lights off.
That feeling didn't shake off as I started to circle the store, as I neared the dumpster a rustling sound started, and then it was quiet, after a couple of seconds it started up again, then just stopped. Now I wasn't sure what it was at this point, but a tiny voice in my head told me it was much more than an animal.
Creeping closer my hand started to shake, my mouth became dry, and my steps decreased as I neared the back of the dumpster, stealing some courage I jumped to see the back and shouted. That was my first mistake, instead of a raccoon, that I thought was there, a very large, very black, and very scary looking dog stared back at me. The smell was overwhelming, sulfur, brimstone, and road kill made me step back. My eyes watered and I wanted to throw up right then.
It took a step toward me, its eyes glowed an unearthly red, large drops of saliva landed on the concrete from its muzzle. I gulped, my body shaking and felt that I knew what this was, but, my mind and body refused to work right now. That was when I saw him, or rather what was left of him, my replacement, dead, his body mutilated from the dog that was eating him, and I had just interrupted its meal. 'Great' I told myself 'If I don't do something in the next few seconds, I'm so going to be dog chow.'
Now I know how this looks, me, and a giant, carnivorous dog that looked hungry, and pissed. I know I had just told you all about the people dying or gone missing, and well, I was certain that I was going to be next. I could just imagine what the paper was going to say about this. “Two gas station attendants found dead behind a dumpster, police baffled!” I wonder what my parents would think or say about that.
"He was always just a good boy, I don't understand who would want to hurt him..." Yes I can be very cynical, I blame it on my lack of getting laid. But luck or God or whoever that was on my side at this exact minute must have had some measure of mercy. Because the dogs attention was drawn to a car that had come to park in the parking lot, which fortunately granted me the chance to move, and dash toward the store and hopefully safety.
Now five seconds doesn't sound like a lot, it takes like five seconds to blink or pick your nose. But when you’re facing a large, homicidal, hungry dog that wants to eat you, believe me, adrenaline coupled with the raw feeling of wanting to live, it adds to your chances. I had dropped the flashlight as I heard my canine friend start to give chase, and knowing how fast a dog runs didn't give me much leeway, but I was going to give it my best shot.
A young, but pretty woman got out, she looked tired in the gloom moonlight, and completely oblivious to what was coming her way. Luckily for her, she had just saved my life, and I was going to be damned if I didn't give her the same chance. “Run!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. I was panting as I turned the corner.
She looked over in my direction as I turned the corner on the side of the building to where the entrance was. I think she then noticed what was chasing me, because her eyes grew wide, her mouth hung open and for a moment I thought she was going to faint. I ran away from the building, the dog in hot pursuit as I didn't give her much of a chance, I grabbed her arm and then ducked us both down as that mutt jumped over the car to get at us. I didn't give us much chance for survival at this point, but I might as well die with a pretty girl then alone.
I jerked her up when the dog cleared the car and forced her to run with me as I could feel that hot breath on the back of my neck. I grabbed the handle flung the door open, shoved her inside onto the floor and with all my strength slammed the glass door shut, causing the other glass to shake from the impact. I was breathing hard, sweating and my legs felt like lead as the dog stopped, sniffed at the glass, and snarled at me.
I shakily managed to lock the door and back away from it before falling on my backside, greedily swallowing any and all air that I had denied to my legs during my brief, but pain filled sprint. The woman had fainted, her body sprawled on the floor next to me, but we were safe, for how long? I did not know, I just wanted to forget all of this, but those glowing, red eyes staring at me wouldn't let me.
Now, I’m not sure, how long it was, it could have been minutes, or hours, but that beast, the one that had killed my coworker, smelling of Brimstone and Sulfur, and now wanted to come in, was not in my imagination. And I have a rather active imagination, nor was I dreaming, for if I was, the scent of death that reeked off this hound would have woken me up.
Or put me in a coma, nothing like the smell of death could do both to you, well, bad garlic can do the same, not that it helps. The woman on my right was still out cold when the dog growled and then howled loud enough to make the windows shutter from the sound. And just like that, it just disappeared. Simply vanishing in the blink of an eye, yes vanished, poofed, went invisible. Hell, if I should know, but it was after that, I allowed my body to succumb to the shock of what I had gone through and witnessed, and passed out.
